


The Mouse's Case

by SherlockianBrowncoatSG1



Series: The Morgue Mouse [3]
Category: NCIS, Rizzoli & Isles, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Baker Street Babes solve a case, F/M, Forced Drug Use, Gen, Molly Hooper is the detective, Murder, Rape, Sexual Abuse, The Morgue Mouse, Torture, not that one, possible triggers, the Mouse detective, victims - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianBrowncoatSG1/pseuds/SherlockianBrowncoatSG1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a girl's night for the women of Baker Street- Mrs. Hudson, Anthea, Molly Hooper, and Mary Watson were just going to have fun with some wine and brownies. No babies-- in diapers or Detective size.<br/>But, Molly got a call from a co-worker. It seems like a new body washed up that fits the MO of a serial she's been trying to pin down. The Baker Street Babes are on the case. </p><p>There is some conversations with Dr. Donald (Ducky) Mallard of NCIS and Dr. Maura Isles of TNT's Rizzoli and Isles.</p><p>All characters belong to their respective writers/producers, no infringement intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Men are Babysitting

**Chapter 1:**

**The Men are Babysitting**

 

"Bye, sweetie!" Mary bused a kiss upon little Kella Mae's forehead as her husband held the big eyed girl. "DO NOT take her to a crime scene, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock squirmed behind John's shoulder, refusing to meet the evil eye that Mary leveled at him. Primly he replied, "I do not know what you refer to, Mrs. Watson."

"Right. Sure you don't." The former assassin hitched up her purse on her shoulder and grabbed her keys. "It'll be a late night. Make sure she is in bed by eight, and do not leave her."

John sighed. "Yes, dear. You do know that I am her father right? I won't be leaving my little warrior." He nestled his chin into her little neck and proceeded to blow raspberries to the delighted giggles of the baby.

The detective gently started to shove Mary out of the door. "Go, go. Have fun with the girls. Make sure Molly does not drink too much wine. She cannot hold it very well. Kella Mae is in good hands. I am going to be teaching her sign language, so she can start telling me her observations. Children are always watching, you know." Sherlock shut the door on Mary's fish face of disbelief.

Smacking his hands together gently, he turned to his friend and grinned. "Now, hand over the munchkin!"

With a laugh, John shook his head, "Not going to happen!" After securing his bundle, he did a soft jog away from Sherlock, much to the enjoyment of his little girl.

  
Kella Mae basked in the joy of having the men fight over her, as any sane woman would. When her tall uncle finally wiggled her out of her daddy's hands, she clasped his sharp cheekbones in her little hands and smacked a very wet kiss to his lips.

Then to the shock of her papa and the arrogant smugness of her uncle, she said, "Boo….Bl….Blooo….d…bloood!" And grinned.  
********************

"Alright, Toby my little furry love, I'll be gone for a bit. You be good and stop shredding my draperies!" Molly juggled a large pan of brownies and a bottle of wine as she opened the door. Toby pointedly turned his back on his mistress with an impressive tail swipe, peeved to be losing his slave for a few hours.

Grinning, Molly finally managed to shut and lock the door to her little flat. A honking horn heralded the arrival of Mary down on the street. With a flurry of a black skirt and a long pea-coat, Molly raced down the flat's stairs. Scooting into the car, she smiled at Mary. "Hey, girl. Brownies and wine. Ready for some down time with the girls?"

"You have no idea! Kella Mae is teething again. Thanks to living with Sherlock and being in the war, John sleeps through everything, but an explosion." The blond ex-assassin sighed. Molly looked at her face and noticed the dark bags barely hidden under her makeup in the dim light of the street.

As Mary pulled back into the street, heading towards Baker Street, Molly turned more fully towards her. "Mary, take me up on babysitting. I'm used to being up at night. Seriously. I would love to be with the little princess. You and John need to take a break. Sleep. Go out. 'Reconnect' if you know what I mean." She wiggled her eyebrows at her friend as she grinned.

Laughing, Mary nodded. "I might take you up on that next week."

"You better." The strains of _The Addams Family_ theme song filled the space between the tired mother and off duty pathologist. With her own sigh, Molly threw an apologetic look at her friend. Digging in her purse she brought her phone, "Hooper. Jack? I'm off. Lestrade brought in a case? You can handle it. Jack, you are good. Sherlock won't bother you. What? Ok. Pertinent facts? Female. 22. Black hair. Slight build. Wounds? Temple shot. Signs of severe sexual trauma. Two parallel cuts from underside of breast to pubic bone. What's that on the neck? Forward it to me. It sounds familiar. Were there slashes on the bottom of her feet? _**Crap**_. Set up the camera. I'll be to a place to connect in five."

Disconnecting the call, her hand dropped to her lap. Muttering to herself, she pulled up the text that soon buzzed. " ** _Bloody Hell_**! Mary step on it. I got to get to Sherlock's computer."

"All right. Hold on." The government trained assassin settled more squarely into the driver's seat, and smoothly accelerated, speeding through the darkening streets of London. She didn't ask any questions, but just worked to get Molly where she needed to be.

The fifteen minute drive shortened to the promised five minutes, brought Molly throwing the door open before it even came to a stop. The wine and brownies were left on the seat as Molly ran up the flat's stairs, past a startled Mrs. Hudson. "Molly, dear?!"

Anthea stepped out of Mrs. Hudson's cozy apartment as Mary came up to the door holding the wine and brownies. "What happened? This doesn't look like a girl's night."

"Body came in. Something showed up on the girl that got Molly concerned. I think she's seen something like it before." Mary handed the treats over to Mrs. H. "Come on. We need to check in with her."

**********************


	2. Molly's Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evidence is shown.

**Chapter 2:**

**Molly's Evidence**

  
By the time the three older ladies came up the stairs, Molly had connected to her co-worker's feed. Sherlock's printer was humming as it spit out numerous colored pages that she was quickly attaching to the London map that was stuck to the wall. She also had grabbed a world map from the pile of maps that Sherlock had shoved into an old doctor's bag, attaching that to the wall as well.

"Jack? Show me a better shot of the neck brand." She jumped off the couch to look as Jack positioned the camera closer to the back of the victim's neck.

The brand, for lack of a better descriptive word, had a large circle. It was about the size of Cutie orange, and what almost mimicked four cat scratches in deep red slashing through the circle.

"What is it, Doctor? You act like you have seen this before." Jack DeNane asked.

As more papers came out of the printer, Molly used another one of Sherlock's computers to bring up her Cloud. "Jack, you have to get Lestrade in there right now. I have seen this. I've been tracking the victims, he knows about it. I'm gathering all the info I have. This is the sixteenth girl who bares these markings."

Jack's shocked face came up on the other screen. "Serial? We have a serial and I don't know about it?!"

Anthea and Mary looked at the map as Mrs. H shook her head and muttered about her lovely wallpaper.

"The girls are spread out over five countries, that I know for sure. I've been talking to a few coroner friends. Ducky Mallard of NCIS, Dr. Isles of Boston, Korscoff of Moscow, Quincy of Australia, Zahara of Egypt-- They've all seen something similar. I've been reaching out to other countries to see if they have anything that's been in cold storage. All ethnic groups as well as at least three military people- NCIS wouldn't have been involved if not. Ducky said that there was a body of a Warrant Officer four years ago that washed up in Spain that had somewhat similar markings. The decomp was especially bad, with very little flesh left to know for sure if the brand was on her neck. But there was bone scrapings that suggested the breast to pubic bone cut was there." Molly IM'd Ducky and Isles even as she spoke to Jack DeNane, figuring they were the most likely to be near their computers.

_Circle/Scratch. Victim same. London. They're on the move._

Mrs. H suddenly exclaimed, "Richie's shop!"

Molly turned to see that Mary had been adding the stack of photos to the maps, while Anthea attached strings to pins, marking victim location. Mrs. H was pointing to the Australian victim, 24 year old Leewan Friedrich. Friedrich was found in a dumpster filled with water that belonged to an exotic dance shop.

"Mrs. H, you know the shop?" Anthea asked as she pulled lightly on the string that connected the pin to the photo.

The older lady smoothed her hair and dithered about answering the deadly woman. Molly muted Jack and came over to where the girls were staring at the photo. "Please Mrs. H. If you have any ideas, I need to know. I've been chasing down leads for two years now. I'm finding old victims, but no new evidence."

With dignity, Mrs. Hudson sat in John's old chair. "It's Richie Vaden's bar. He use to work for my husband. Got the seed money for the exotics by running drugs for the cartel. I even danced there a few times. At the time, it was one of the better bars. Girls weren't forced to service the men beyond lap dances. A no-sex titty bar was rare-- is rare. Haven't been back for twenty five or so years though, so I don't know if Vaden is even running the joint anymore."

Grabbing a shot of the brand, Molly handed it to the former dancer. "Have you seen this mark before?"

Mrs. Hudson squinted at the photograph and promptly went pale. She sagged against the back of the chair while her hand started to shake. "It can't be. He's dead. I know it for a fact. Everything was destroyed or confiscated. All the upper management is either dead or in prison for life."

"Who?" Said the three other women.

"My husband liked to use this on our correspondence. It was usually used as a watermark in the papers I typed. It's was the emblem for Hyena Heroin. Our…his…strongest heroin." Mrs. Hudson let the photograph go, and as it floated down to the floor, she covered her eyes and started to cry. "Sherlock made sure he died! He ensured that the switched was flipped at the executioner's block. I've made amends. Why is someone bringing back his ghost? And to kill girls?!"

The other women looked at each other as their pseudo- grandmother cried. A ding heralded an IM from Sherlock's computer, prompting Molly to abandon Mrs. H to the assassin's care, as Mary took her spot.

Ducky wrote: _Was it in a body of water?_

Dr. Isles also had responded: _Have dug through two more years of my predecessor--fifteen years ago there were two female bodies found, they were three years apart. They were similar enough that he noted it. Decomp was in full swing. Bone markings show breast to pubic bone cuts again. Markings on the feet suggest torture as well._

Molly unmuted Jack and asked, "What type of body of water was the victim found in?"

Jack flipped through his paper work, "Lestrade said it was in an oversized rain barrel on the back side of an exotic shop."

"All the victims have been found immersed in some form of water- fountain, rain barrel, flooded dumpster, river, ocean. Forensic counter measures I believe."

_Isles- forward the cases please, Ducky yes- rain barrel this time. Both of you? Can you go over your notes and see if there are any exotic dancing near where the bodies were found?_

Molly opened her email as Isles forwarded the autopsy reports. "What shop was it?"

" _Midnight Dreams_ , fancy themselves theater." Jack's sarcasm showed as he rolled his eyes.

Anthea placed another pin in the map of London after pulling up the address for the dance shop on her phone. She added a string pointing to the newest victim's photo.

Mrs. Hudson calmed down as Mary pulled the photographs from Dr. Isles' reports that Molly printed, included was a handy little sheet of addresses and a Boston map. Those went up on the wall as well.

Isles- _I have three- Sharon Cafferty was a block from Blue Shield. Maggie Higgins across the street from Revolutionary Birdies. And one female that was never identified- no DNA or dental help- was found outside Sunken Teabags. All in some form of water- one was found with her head in a 20 gal bucket, though her body was half out, signs of scrubbing though. I'll pass on the addresses and store front photos. Who named these joints?_

Ducky- _Petty Officer Lily Peterson was found by Feminine Wiles in Virginia, Ensign Parker Giddings by Ahoy! Sailor in DC. Warrant Officer Sophia Hernández at the back of Guadalupe's Saints-- she's the one who was found in Spain. She was stationed over in the Joint US/Spain base due to her family originating from there. All found in water as well. Sophia was dumped in the ocean, but I believe she had been attached to a piling of a dock with a long rope to keep her near where she ended up. If you are thinking the exotic dancing shops are part of the MO. Addresses and photos on the way._

Molly replied: _I do think that this is part of the MO. Five in the States near exotic dancing, one in Australia-- Vaden's Gals, three here- Midnight Dreams, Crown Jewels, Tuppence Joy. Then there's Spain. Water is a definite MO-- all of them are immersed except for that one of yours Isles._

The three other women had quickly added the necessary strings and photos to all the maps that were given.

They stood back as Molly got up to take a closer look at all of the evidence she had managed to gather over the last two years. She knew there at least two each in Moscow, Egypt, and in Australia. There had been an international medical examiner convention up in Scotland two years ago. They were talking about unsolved deaths that had been bugging the examiners over dinner. The six examiners had all mentioned these female bodies that were being found in water with odd cuts and brands. Molly had drawn the brand out on a napkin to due to the similarities of descriptions.

They had realized then, that there was a serial killer out there working worldwide.


	3. Mrs. Hudson has a history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. H opens up about her history as a dancer

**Chapter 3**

**Mrs. Hudson has a history**

Martha Louise Hudson was horrified as she looked at the pictures up on her wall, and not just because it was further abuse to her poor wallpaper, but because those dance shops were all familiar to her.

Every single photograph that the girls connected to maps of London, Boston, and Washington DC were familiar to her. It wasn't because one titty bar is like all the others, but because she had danced on poles in every one of those sixteen shops. Every one.

If the Australian one was any clue, she figured she also knew the ones in Egypt and Moscow as well.

The young women she had unofficially adopted, discussed the various murdered girls that plastered the wall.

Mysterious Anthea, "This guy gets around. If they weren't still happening, I'd think Moriarty was part of it. His whole operation would have succeeded at doing this. You know his ability to connect murderers with those who are seeking death for hire. Some of these places are hard to get into as well."

Deadly maternal Mary, "I was think that too. Six countries - here, Spain, Russia, Egypt, Australia, and the States. There has to be more, if he is this prolific. Molly, do we have an age on the first body found?"

Strength wrapped in curious timidity Molly, "The earliest that I have according to Dr. Isles is eighteen years ago. A skeleton was found that seemed to have the same markings as these newer corpses." She sat down and started to write down the names and dates in chronological order.

Martha bit her tongue as she studied the addresses and names of the shops. She was hoping she was wrong, but as she wracked her mind, she knew she wasn't. She really had danced at every single shop on that wall.

"Ladies." With a quavering voice, she called their attention to her again. Sighing, Mrs. Hudson sat down, and picked at the fringe on her cardigan. "I know all of these shops. Not just Vaden's in Sydney."

Mary turned to her and sat down on the sofa, "All?"

She nodded, "Yes. All."

Anthea looked at her carefully with her calculated gaze. "It's more than that isn't it? Not just knowing them…" her voice trailed off.

Straightening her already ramrod spine, Mrs. Hudson nodded. "I danced at each of those. I almost didn't realize it, but yes. The names are even the same as when I was there. Which is odd. They usually change the name when they sell the shop." She frowned as she looked at the Sunken Teabags name that could be seen behind the body of a young woman.

"Really? No offense, but that's been a few decades hasn't it?" Molly blurted.

"Which is why I almost didn't recognize the fact that those are the same shops. Been nearly 35 years since I last was on the poles." Fidgeting yet again with the fringe on her cardigan, she couldn't bear to look at the ladies. While she wasn't really ashamed of what she did, she also didn't want to see the recriminations.  
She saw Anthea typing furiously on her phone, probably pulling up information that existed in the ether of that internet thing. Mary brought over a list of the names of the shops, handing it over to the older lady. "You've been all over? To all these countries? Dancing?"

Seeing the names in one area, written on yellow paper with black pen, was gut wrenching. History and forgotten refrains of stripping music floated through Mrs. Hudson's mind. The feel of G-strings riding up as grimy fingers pushed in paper money, floated across her skin under her loose dress.

"Frank, my husband, only did business with shops that didn't sell flesh." At Molly's eyebrow rise, she corrected herself, "no sex. For all his faults, he wasn't into running sex. Look don’t touch, was his motto. He ran his Hyena Heroin through these shops, but he'd send me in first to see what was expected of the girls. If sex was sold, he was out. I would usually dance for about six months, because with the clean shops it would take a bit longer to see how quickly girls were put on their backs."

Counting the shops on the list again, she mused, "Sixteen. Frank chose, oh what was it, twenty-five? I think that's right, twenty-five shops to run Hyena through. I mean, I danced at other shops, but those were the only ones that were truly no sex. When he wanted to check in on the honesty of the dealers, he would send me back in. He had a list of what hair and eye color I had where I danced, so my appearance would change when he would have me go back in."

Molly's head swiveled between the photographs and maps to Mrs. Hudson. "Twenty-five. Do you remember where and the names?" Pointing at the yellow legal pad, she handed over a pen. "Can you write them down?"

"There's one more here in London. He didn't do a lot of business with the flesh clubs here. Mostly he just ran drugs and guns. There's three in Moscow, chilly place that. Three others in Egypt--sand in nasty places there. Then two more in Australia." She wrote down names of the shops as well as the towns that they resided in. "The Spain one was a fluke. Frank always hesitated on that one. He didn't have any other shops to keep an eye on it, and it was more of a good run for the guns than the flesh trade."

Molly looked over the list of the six countries' strip bars. Standing in front of the maps, she had Anthea pull up the addresses of the shops. Quickly, the eight other shops were marked. London's map glared back at her. They were only a few blocks from that last shop in England that still bore the name from when Mrs. H danced there.

Looking at the other three women, she itched to run out of the flat. She wanted to get her eyes on the strip joint, see if there was any water nearby. Without waiting, she picked up her long coat, covering her flirty 50s style red dress, and turned on her heel.

As she pounded down the steps, she could hear Mrs. H shouting, "Molly?! Dear, where ARE you going?!"

"To see Raven's Peck!" As she threw open the door, Mary appeared next to her.

"We'll take my car."

The ladies who were connected to the men of 221B Baker Street spilled out into the street. With an impishness rarely shown, as she excitedly got into the car, Molly said, "The game is on!"

The car pulled out into the traffic of the night, as an unseen tall red haired man in a tattered Belstaff pulled away from Speedy's door. He hurried down the street in the opposite direction while the women went off to see a possible future crime scene.


	4. The Women Investigate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last I think I'm back! Here's the 4th chapter, thank you for those who have stuck with me!   
> Life has been beyond whacked out and crazy, so hopefully Molly can focus and find the killer.

**Chapter 4**

**The Women Investigate**

Even as the head of Sherlock's Homeless Network ran back to the Watson's home to report on the ladies' adventure, the women were pulling into a parking spot on the street down from the Raven's Peck.

Mrs. Hudson stepped slowly out of the car as the younger women poured onto the sidewalk. Memories flashed across her face as Molly looked on. Molly wrapped her arm around her, as they walked down the street. "Can you tell me more about this joint?"

Mrs. H sighed as she looked at the flashing neon lights. "It's named after the Queen's Ravens of course, and the male's over inflated love of their staffs." The women laughed at her dry sense of humor.

Molly stopped, which slowed down the rest of the ladies. She looked closely at the front of the strip joint, as well as the surrounding areas. There was a fountain across the street. Watching for traffic, she jumped across the street quickly to get a better look at the fountain. It would have to be just deep enough to immerse a body if the killer was going to use it. Mary stepped next to Molly, "Do you think this will be the body of water?"

Anthea had her back to the fountain as she viewed a group of men entering the strip joint's door. "Is there a profile yet on the suspect?" She interjected, as she typed something into her phone.

"I think this might be the preferred water, but I want to look at the back too. Ducky said that he would probably be between 30s to early 50s. But, he is hedging on it being more toward 30s. He believes that the suspect will have a small amount of medical training, probably more closely to a high level paramedic than a nurse. Probable history of physical and sexual abuse, perpetrator and victim. Ducky also believes we'll find that the man's mother was a drug addict as well as a prostitute connected to a very abusive pimp." Molly said as she walked around the fountain.

A young woman sat with her back against the low wall that wrap around the basin of the fountain. She was wrapped in flashy red silk and feather boas that fluttered in the cool breeze. She was a hard bitten and her youth belied the age in her eyes. Molly knew her from her work on the streets as well her association with Sherlock.

"Inara? Inara, what are you doing here?" Molly hurried over to the young prostitute.

The woman stood up as Molly neared, but hesitated when she saw the other three ladies who followed. "Miz Molly?"

The pathologist quickly wrapped her arms around the street walker, releasing her from the hug before Inara had a chance to tense. "This isn't your usual street, Inara. Why are you so far across town?"

Wrapping her feathers tightly against her bare shoulders, Inara answered, "You gotta be careful, Miz. Shezza has us out looking for clues for you. We be finding you with it. Talk to Shezza after."

Sighing, Molly looked at her friends. "Of course, Sherlock is on the case."

Mrs. Hudson neared the youth with her hand outstretched. "Hello, young lady. You a friend of my Sherlock?" Looking uncertain, Inara placed her hand in the older lady's grasp. "You have the prettiest eyes don't you?"

At odds with her usual brashness that Molly as seen, she smiled shyly at the honesty in Mrs. H's voice. "Thank you ma'am."

"Why don't you go to the home, Inara? You can have a hot meal and a warm bed for the night." Once more, Molly handed the young lady the card with the special code to access the safe home. For the last two years Molly has attempted to get her into the safety that the home represented. Her brother and Pa supplied the money that helped run the safe house as well as provided the security measures that kept the girls protected.

"Maybe, Miz Molly. Maybe." Shrugging, Inara slipped the card into her bra. Molly knew that Inara wouldn't come, but she would find a scared young runaway and get her to safety. Inara has been doing that since Molly met her. When Molly had attempted to pin her down last year about coming in, she had said that she was too far gone to find her way back.

Inara was the unofficial lady boss for the streets though, she knew where the workers walked and made sure that there were strong men near to protect them. Unlike the pimps and gangs who ran flesh around the city, she didn't keep tabs on how much the walkers made or took any percentage. The ladies and men actually freely paid a small fee to keep the security around, though it wasn't enforced. She made sure underage girls were conveniently finding themselves in front of Molly's home, where they could be taken off of the streets and away from predators.

Molly appreciated the care Inara had for the workers, but really wished she could talk her into leaving the streets. Until that time though, Molly would support her care of the walkers.

"You need to look for JackZ in Raven's Peck. He's the one in charge of the girls. A hard but fair man. He keeps track of men who show a little too much attention to a certain girl." Inara diverted Molly's attention back to the case. "He's a whip thin man who is bald. Usually wears a black suit."

Anthea typed the name into her mobile, accessing the government database. "Jack Zaddia, or JackZ, a former Wing Commander of the Air Force. Good service record, only one notation. Seems he jumped a couple Flying Officers of another squad who were attacking a working girl. They lost the appeal because he had higher ups in favor of him."

"Working girl. Interesting." Molly grabbed her little composite notebook, writing the man's name down.

Inara ran her hands down her own arms, attempting to bring some heat to the chilled exposed flesh. "Oh, lass! You need to get out of this wind. Here, this should cover your fare." Mrs. Hudson put some cash into the working girl's hand.

"Yes, go back to your usual street. I know you have shelter near there. If of course, you won't come to the home?" Molly reiterated with a hopeful air.

"Thanks Miz, thank you. You be careful. This path you travel, Miz Molly, darkness lurks. People don't much care for us walkers. We are the forgotten and the misused. Jack the Ripper ain't the only one who be cutting us." Inara hitched her boa up her shoulder and started to skirt the small group of women. With an inherent grace that belied her rough speech, she stepped upon the fountain and ran on top to the street. "Shezza's eyes be watching you! Stay safe."

The ladies watched her disappear into the darkening street then as one turned to look at the front of the strip joint. As the door swung open, loud bass poured out in thumping energy onto the road as fluorescent lights blinked and splashed across the fountain's water.

Mrs. Hudson's wise counsel lead their steps, "Go in like you own it. Don't flinch. You'll be watched." The older lady's hips took on a forgotten rhythm as she stepped in her sensible shoes across the threshold.

Out of the four ladies who had at various times donned the persona of a seductress, Molly Hooper's transformation was the most striking. While Anthea and Mary had the deadly femme fatale look down. Molly walked into the flashing lights of the joint slowly stripping off her black trench coat, flashing the 50s style innocence in a red dress to the rabid lustful looks of the men.

Entrance made, they set about gathering information on the killer who just might be in their midst.


	5. Two Men and a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, but I just couldn't get this idea of Kella Mae and John ganging up on Sherlock to take care of him out of my mind!   
> Hope it gives you a chuckle :-)

**Chapter 5--  
Two Men and a Baby**

Across town, two men and a baby struggled with the evening feeding. As in Dada and baby insisting that Uncle Sherlock eat something much to his dismay. Kella Mae kept making odd little noises that sounded suspiciously like a choo-choo train every time John pushed a plate closer to the elbow of the detective.

Sherlock gratefully scooted away from the table as a tapping could be heard from the back door. Opening it, he got a slip of paper from a young waif in response to the twenty five pounds he held out. The waif disappeared quickly and quietly from the family home.

_Raven's Peck. Checking JackZ. Fountain. MH knows. Smiled._

Sherlock returned to the table and the computer that he had appropriated from the Watsons. Clicking through different top secret government files with Mycroft's password, he looked up the different women's autopsy records. He could see where Molly's careful notations and conversations with other medical examiners connected some seemingly random pieces to a serial killer.

" _Choo-choo_ " came the soft burble from the high chair to his right, followed by the joyful smacks of little hands hitting plastic. A secret weakness for sweet pickles tempted him as John wiggled it in front of the detective's face.

"Alright, fine!" Snatching it from the elated doctor, he bite into the gherkin. Around the sweet sharpness he mumbled, "Serial killer. Molly is looking at Raven's Peck."

John sighed, "Of course, the girls are on a case."

"Buu….buuu…oooo…ddd. Bluooodd! BLOOD!" Squealed the little girl as she smacked at the strawberry pieces on her tray.

"Nice splatter pattern there, Kella!" Beaming at his little detective in training, Sherlock reached for another gherkin.


	6. Strobe lights and skin

Chapter 6--Strobe Lights and Skin

The music pounded through Molly's flesh, reverberating up her spine and making her hips move to the beat. As the other ladies moved through the crowds, Molly danced onto the floor surrounding the poles with her black tulle and red skirts floating enticingly around her. 

While she spun around, she looked at the various booths that men sat in, shrouded in flickering darkness. Women and a few oiled men serviced the overwhelming male crowd with drinks and winks. 

Watching Sherlock for so many years had sharpened her observational skills to the point that she saw the concealed drug deal in the corner. She also could see the undercover officer of the law taking pictures across the room. 

A hand snaked up her skirt when she got too close to a table, and Molly put force behind her slap, but giggled and winked at the offender while she danced away. A woman clad in a see- through silk kimono undulated onto the wooden platform. The woman showed remarkable control of her musculature as she wrapped herself around the pole upside down while using her legs to crawl up the steel pole. 

Continuing to dance to the other side of the platform, Molly saw Mrs. H laughing with a few of the older serving women at the bar, who obviously were there to keep an eye on the till and the dancers. Mrs. H pointed at the dancer that was on the pole and seemed to make a comment that had the other women in disbelief. Mary and Anthea had cornered a pair of men, whose expressions varied between arousal and straight out fear. By the men's rapid nodding, the government trained women were asking questions. 

An arm snaked around Molly ' s waist as a hard body pressed against her back. Trying not to show how startling it was, she took stock of the man's physique. As he moved her to the beat of the pounding music, she could discern that he was very wiry, perhaps even "whip thin" as Inara put it. 

The man's hot breath fanned her ear as he leaned down to block out the music, "Lady, what are you and your hens doing here?"

"Just dancing. That ain't no crime is it?" Molly dug into her mental bag of tricks to pull out that flirtatious giggle. She thought this might be JackZ, the man she needed to look for. But, if she was wrong, well, let's just hope she wasn't wrong. 

Dipping his wide hand lower on her belly, the unknown male pressed his hips into her backside. "Keep dancing. You have two possible tangos in here. One in the far right corner, black checkered shirt. Other one is moving constantly, burgundy shirt. He's the one that is most likely. Squirrelly. Shifty eyes." 

His voice was raspy as he shifted their bodies so Molly could see the suspects he described. Figuring this man had to be someone that Sherlock knew since he was already in on the case, she wrapped her right hand over the back of his neck, bringing his face closer to rasp his 5 o'clock shadow against her cheek. She dug the nails of her other hand into his thigh as he gryated into her backside. 

"Keep doing that, lass, and I'll forget who I'm helping. Sherlock would be greatly displeased." The man groaned in her ear. 

Mary was motioning at her, getting Anthea ' s attention away from the two terrified men they had been interrogating. Mrs. Hudson across the room was also looking at Molly with concern. Molly did a reverse move within the man's arm cage, pressing her chest up against his. The man's gleaming bald head and dark suit confirmed his identity.

"So, JackZ." She purred into his own ear as she wrapped her bare leg around his hip, pushing up her skirts, much to the delight of the male onlookers. "Sherlock has got you on the hook too, huh?" 

"Nothing scandalous, miss. I appreciate a man, or a woman, who keeps eyes on the innocent." JackZ's dark eyes bore past the strobe lights with a touch that Molly could feel. "I'd be keeping an eye on you either way. Holmes and I have a working relationship. With my training, I can help in some sticky situations tactically, while he has the ears and eyes to watch the girls. You are just so delightfully important that you garner a careful watch." 

"Delightfully important?" She shook her head, "Never mind. Do you have any other clues that might help?" 

JackZ gently pushed Molly ' s torso backwards over his arm, while running his other hand from her neck down her front. "I think Squirrel has a hook on Jade. She's the dancer on. He only comes in when she's working." Bringing Molly back up with a snap that had her gasping, he brushed a light kiss across her open mouth. 

Releasing her, JackZ smiled. "Oh, lass. If only you weren't so delightfully important. I wouldn't mind dancing with you again." He winked as he disappeared into the darkness surrounding the platform. 

Trying to regain her equilibrium, Molly shook her head and prowled towards the dancer who was walking off stage. Catcalls and hoots followed the two women as they slipped behind the black curtains. Anthea followed the whip thin man who circled the audience while checking on shadowy figures. Mary turned her eye to the man in a burgundy shirt, who suddenly was moving very purposefully towards the curtains that Molly and the dancer had disappeared through, while Mrs. H showed the pictures of the English girls to the older dancers. 

The curtains swished closed behind Molly. She watched the dancer as she hurried towards the open dressing room at the end of the hall. Stale sweat, cheap perfume, and hairspray mixed with the scent of desperation as it wafted in the air out of the women's room. She could hear the chatter of numerous ladies while a man kept repeating, "Hurry up, get out there and dance!"

She was nearly to the doorway when a rough hand grabbed her shoulder


	7. Shades of Envy

Chapter 7-- Shades of Envy

"Why that interfering backstabbing jackass!" Sherlock growled. He jabbed at the buttons on his computer with vigor.

John, having stepped out to put Kella Mae to bed, came up behind him. His eyes bugged out as he watched a rather dark, grainy image of Molly dancing dirty with a stranger on Sherlock's screen. The slap of his hand meeting his gaping mouth, made the unaware detective jump. 

"Pen." Sherlock quickly waved his hand. 

"Get it yourself, you wanker." John plopped down in a kitchen chair, dragging the computer with him. Sherlock attempted to wrestle the machine back as Molly's image turned in the man's arms. 

As the slim pale leg wrapped around the dark clad figure, a whistle of surprise passed John's lips while a poorly covered groan escaped Sherlock's. And when the man tipped Sherlock's pathologist backwards, John was the one jumping when his friend's hand slapped sharply on the wooden surface of the table. 

Sherlock loudly scrapped the chair back as the man on the screen kissed the lips of one Dr. Molly Hooper. "Oh, I am going to kill him. How the hell is that helping her?! The impudence of that man! Next time Zaddia needs a hand, I will...." 

John attempted to cover his gleeful chuckle as his tall lean friend paced the five steps it took to reach the other side of the kitchen. Sherlock devolved in to intelligible ranting as he watched. 

Molly was getting to his friend, whether he wanted to admit it or not.


	8. Bully Denied

Chapter 8 Bully denied

As the heavy hand grabbed her shoulder, Molly didn't lose the element of surprise. In a classic defensive move, she wrenched the hand forward as she rolled her shoulder, making the person do a good impression of a bird, by flying over her head.

"No special effects need apply!" Crowed Mary as she hurried towards the man splayed at Molly's feet.

"It's Squirrelly!" Molly said after noticing the burgundy shirt. The man groaned as he attempted to sit up.

"Who are you?" Mary demanded as she pushed him into a sitting position against the wall.

He weakly batted at her hands, "Leave me alone, whore!"

Molly cringed as Mary adjusted the man, by fisting the front of his shirt and slamming him back against the wall hard enough that his head made a quiet thunk that could be heard over the bass shaking the floor.

Leaning down so her face was filling the man's eyesight, Mary growled, "Listen you slimy worm, answer my questions and you might get to walk out of here instead of crawling. Who are you and where are you from?"

"Th...Th...Theodore Rush." The intimated man stuttered. "London, but originally A...A...America."

Molly texted Anthea his information as Mary crouched down. "Why were you following my friend here?"

As if remembering his purpose, he pushed against the wall trying to stand, which Mary quickly squashed. "That whore's trying to mess up Jade's chance! I wanted to scare her off!"

"Speak nicely, Teddy, or you will regret it." Mary said quietly as she leaned on a hand that rested on Theodore's slightly bent knee. By his pained expression, Molly knew she was slowly forcing the knee to bend backwards.

Molly checked the hallway as she informed Mary that Jade was the dancer who had just left the stage. Her phone buzzed erratically in hand, indicating an incoming text. Anthea shared her intell. _Dishonorable discharge in 2010. He beat a civ nearly to death because he cut him off and there were numerous small infractions that were piling up. He was on his way out._

Molly shot another query to her, _Any questionable conduct with women?_

_Just a side note on his file. Says that he has distrust of women, inappropriate language and actions around superior rankings. Verbal abuse of lesser rank._

Mary took the phone and read the texts quickly. "So Teddy. Not much for women, huh?" She pressed forcefully with a sharp motion making the man whimper as his knee bowed past it's bending point.

Molly watched his reactions as Mary kept whispering threats. The man was a complete wuss. Catching Mary's questioning look, Molly shook her head. Crouching down, she jerked Theodore's face around so she could look him in the eye. "Did you cut a woman's stomach?"

If possible, he paled even more. "No, no! Why? Why would you think that?"

"You hate women." Mary stated with fearsome flatness that had Theodore trying to scoot into the wall.

Being interrogated by two women who were manhandling him in much the same way he handled the whores he bought, made him lose control of his bowels. A wet stain sped it's way over the front of his slacks, making Mary hastily remove her hands from his knee.

The women stood together and looked at the pale, shaking, urine stained man. Molly shook her head. The best lead to the serial killer was a bust.

"He's just a bully. Actually, he's a scared little baby who thinks he's the master. Just a scared little boy. Not the one we need."

Molly ' s phone buzzed with another text from Anthea, _Mrs. H has lead. Man comes in regular. Should be here in 20._

Mary and Molly left Theodore, the urine stained man, slumped on the floor as they ducked back through the curtain to where the other ladies waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those who were waiting for the completion of Molly's case.   
> I'm back and will hopefully get the killer caught and off the streets soon.   
> Molly is back on the case!  
> (Thanks to those who are still curious about the Morgue Mouse)


	9. Stalking Prey

Chapter 9 Stalking prey 

The ladies withdrew to a high backed booth in the far corner of the bar. It had a clear view of the entrance, but was removed enough that the dancers didn't get in the way of the door.

Mrs. Hudson told them about what she learned from the older dancers. "The man is in his midforties. He comes like clockwork on Saturday nights. He's been tracking two girls. They say they are scared of him, but they're single mothers and he pays good for their attention. Like noticeably good, at least 50 over the going rate. Hasn't demanded sex, but wants as much skin on skin contact as the establishment allows. The bouncers follow the girls home after he's here, to make sure they're safe." 

Anthea pulled out her BlackBerry and accessed a government website. Logging in with Mycroft's information, she asked Mrs. H for the man's name.

"He goes by Skinner, that's the only name that the girls know." 

A waitress came to the table with a tray of wine. As she placed a goblet in front of each woman, she leaned in and spoke softly over the pounding music, "Skinner is coming in. Daisy is about to dance and Christie is on her floor shift. He is only here when they are on. He's a slick man. Looks like he tries a little too hard to look average. Brownish hair, close cut goatee, average height 5'9 or so. The only thing really noticeable is he wears a ring on his right hand. It has a coin in it." The waitress shrugged her bare shoulder as she rested the tray against her hip. 

Mrs. Hudson smiled and handed a small fistful of cash over to the helpful worker. "Thank you Kalyan. Stay safe." With a nod of her braided blond head, she walked back into the flashing lights that spun over the patrons. 

The landlady turned back to the table, "I know men like she was talking about. They don't want to be remembered, but in their attempt to not draw attention, they attract it even more. The slick men leave a nasty feeling. It's different than the guys here who are honest about their lust. They make no qualms about why they are here. They want flesh, not to be reminded of the brain attached. And they pay for it. But, the slick men?" She lapsed into silence as the younger women waited. 

Molly, sitting next to Mrs. Hudson, felt the shudder that rippled through the dancer's frame. "What were the slick men like?"

"Oh, child. These men were just slimey. Whenever the other men touched you, you'd feel like you rolled around in the trash. But, it was work. You scrubbed your skin raw, and next time stayed a few inches out of their reach. The slick men though, it's like no amount of washing was going to make you feel clean again. Even when they looked at you, the slime seemed to coat you. I much rather sit in a bathtub of wet salamanders than deal with one of them slickies again." Another forceful shudder racked the woman. "They look at you as less than even flesh. I don't know what they see, but it's not exactly pleasure." 

Molly knew what she meant. That look was haunting. "I've dealt with those types before. When I went in for Pa and Max to see who was buying the girls, there'd be men and occasionally some women who'd just be there, watching. It was like hunger in their eyes, not lust, but a hunger for the shame they'd be able to bring." 

"Exactly." Mrs. H agreed.

Tapping her fingers as she watched the door, Molly said, "People like that though? They don't ever stop. They aren't like Moriarty, who waits and plans for the best time for the sheer manic beauty of a well done crime. The slickies thrive on the shame and humiliation of others. They breathe it and eat it. And they just get worse. It spills out into the everyday life, work and family. People become uncomfortable around them. Animals scurry away from them." 

Her voice trailed off as the door swung open, spilling weak florescent beams of light across the darkened floor like a drunkard spilling his precious ale. Men seemed to unconsciously edge away from the average figure that slipped through the entrance, crowding closer to each other at the bar. These depraved men felt uncomfortable being near a hunter. It was as if they suddenly felt as if they were the flesh that was being sought. Too bad they wouldn't remember that feeling the next time they looked at a woman. 

The close cut goatee and a glinting ring on his right hand pegged him as the man named Skinner. The bartender caught Mrs. H's eye and nodded towards the door, letting them know that that was the man. Anthea quickly took a picture of him and ran it through the database. As they waited for the information, they watched him snag one of the waitresses, a younger woman with a feisty cut of dark hair that showed her dangling earrings. 

"Must be Christie?" Mary questioned. 

The other ladies nodded in agreement as the woman held very still as Skinner pushed into her personal space. Even from where they sat, they could see the discomfort on her face as Skinner nuzzled her neck. Molly bet her knuckles were white from their grip on the tray she held. 

Anthea passed her phone to Mary with what looked like a license photo glowing on the screen. Squinting, the assassin looked rapidly between the phone and the man forcing himself on the waitress. "Hard to say for sure in this light, but I've shot on less certainty. I say it's him. Does he have a sheet?" 

"Yes." Taking back her phone, Anthea read off Skinner's rap sheet. "Multiple disorderly conducts with drunk driving on base. He was drummed out after two years from the Russian military hospital. Low level medic. Says that though he doesn't acknowledge his mother, she was a camp follower for quite a few years. No idea who his father is. Possibly one of the numerous soldiers his mother attended. His mother was thought to have been killed by her pimp in retaliation for not selling Skinner to him. Only reason they got that far in the investigation was that she was a regular for a general." 

They looked at Skinner as he pulled Christie onto his lap even as she tried to get away. The music changed as the last dancer hurried off the platform. Patrons moved away from Skinner's table, piling into booths, while some even slipped out into the night. A queasy feeling seemed to settle over the room. The men seemed to be hesitant as they kept one eye on the average man in their midst, much like they would keep an eye on an apex predator. 

Mary and Anthea shared a look and a nod. They've seen this behavior before. Skinner was the rabid beast they've been called out to put down before, and this beast was going to have to meet a bullet for everyone's safety.


	10. Mycroft Spies

Chapter 10 Mycroft Spies

 _Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Beep!_ The phone walked across the dinner table as Sherlock did facial recognitions on various patrons at the Raven's Peck. Ignoring it, he zoomed one of the camera's onto the girls table and dragged the video up to the upper left of the computer screen so he could keep an eye on them. Soft dinging heralded faces connecting with different rap sheets. Lewd behavior, drunk driving, soliciting, drug use seemed to be the worst offences.

The phone went into fits along the wooden surface again.

John came in from checking on Kella Mae and sighed as his own phone started to play the strains of "God Save The Queen," "Seriously? Why can't you answer your own phone? You know who it is."

Smirking, Sherlock clicked on a police report related to Skinner. "Because, I know who it is."

"Your bloody brother. What am I? Your nanny?" Muttering, John dug his phone out of his pocket. "Yes, Mycroft? What can I do for you this fine evening?"

"Ah, yes, John. Do tell my little brother to answer his phone." Mycroft said.

"You know he won't. First of all, you just snipe at each other. Second of all, you just want to annoy me. So. Once again. What do you need?" Grabbing the recently whistling pot, John poured a hot cup of tea as he waited for Mycroft to answer him.

Sherlock pushed his own cup across to the doctor, who let water splash onto the fresh leaves in the strainer. "Mind telling me why my secretary is asking for a kill order on a man in a dance hall?"

Surprised, John turned to look over his friend's shoulder at the image of the women conversing in the booth. They all seemed to be watching a man that had a waitress in his lap, a waitress that even painted in the black and white of a security camera's lens look distinctly uneasy. "Uh...what...what man is the order for?"

Cutting a look at the mugshot that Sherlock was reading, he found the name as Mycroft said, "Goes by Skinner. The name is Anthony Shiner Brumbstad. Got the name playing football, skinned a young lad's face with his cleats when the lad landed on the ball. People said he had plenty of time to pull back from the kick, but he let it fly anyway."

Sherlock got up and wander out of the room when a rustling sound came from the baby monitor clipped to John's belt. A cooing sound turned into a full chortle as the deep voice of the little girl's uncle spoke of pirates and dogs as little rips of velcro and the snaps of buttons let John know that Kella was getting a new diaper.

"John? What is Sherlock doing? Why is Anthea wanting to kill this man?" Came the aristocratic tones of a person who held a minor position in the British Government.

"Hold on a second, Mycroft." John held the phone out to his friend as he carried the little girl into the kitchen.

Dark curls wiggled as Sherlock shook his head. Kella Mae imitated the movement with her own crazy blond bedhead. "Talk to your bloody brother, Sherlock."

"Bbbbb...bbbb...looooo..dddyy. Bloody. Bloody. Bloody!!" Giggling, Kella bounced in her uncle's arms as she repeated the word over and over again.

Sighing, John forced the phone into his friend's hand and scooped Kella out of his arms. Pouting, Sherlock listen to the blather on the phone, before finally interrupting his brother, "For such a clever man, you sure do not know what is going on do you?"

"That is why I am calling you! Fill me in!" Mycroft's strident tone came through the speaker as John fixed a sippy cup of juice for his daughter.

"Your Girl Friday is with the rest of our ladies and they are tracking a serial killer that finds his victims possibly in a strip joint." Sherlock took a long sip from his cup. "All signs are pointing to this Skinner, but even if he is not the killer in this case, he for sure has killed at another time. All the clues are there. He is not a man that holds back his desire to harm people, especially women. I am assuming Anthea wants him gone one way or the other."

"Just because the person has all of the markings of a killer does not make him am actual killer. Need I remind you of the Richard Brooks case? I cannot just sign a death warrant for some man that creeps out the women." Mycroft snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock clicked on the social media link that had a clip with the vicious soccer kick on it. "Brother, it's not like I'm going to forget Brooks. But, this is nothing like that. I'm gathering proof right now. Just give Anthea and Mary the okay, but wait order. Molly will of course make sure that he is truly the man they are looking for before allowing anything to happen."

John bounced his daughter on his narrow hip and looked her in the eye, "Remember, Kella. Death warrants can only be used when you have proof."

Snorting, Sherlock tossed the phone to the table. "Or you beat Mycroft at cards."


	11. Blood Lust

Chapter 11 -- Blood Lust

The pounding music softened to volin strings and after a few bars the dub step made famous by American Lindsey Stirling could be heard. The curtain opened to expell a dancer with a curly mass of red hair spilling down her back. Clad in a green sheer fabric that revealed as much as it hid, an innocent of face lady twisted and turned in elaborate ballet moves. 

Even as she admired the control that the woman exhibited, Molly watched as the suspect seemed to become wholly focused on Daisy. He had even allowed Christie to wiggle free to scurry off to the protection offered by the bar. 

Molly leaned in towards the other ladies at the table, "Do you all see what I'm seeing?"

Mary looked over at Skinner. "He is obsessed with the dancer for sure." 

"Yes, but what do you see about Christie and Daisy that isn't in the other dancers?" Molly prompted. 

Anthea studied the waitresses that wandered among the mostly male patrons. Skimpy outfits that consisted of strings and shiny fabric were paraded around on skin that glittered. In comparison, the two ladies in question wore the most clothing and the least amount of makeup. "They're the innocent act." She mused. 

"Exactly!" Descreetly pointing towards Christie, Molly listed what she was seeing, "Look at what she's wearing, her gown is longer and not nearly as see through. It's almost a peasant gown. Her heels aren't spiked nor is her makeup as heavy. She looks like she's nearly fresh off the farm. Daisy? She looks almost looks like a sheltered daughter of a vicar." 

Mrs. Hudson nodded her head, "They are the fresh faces. They may not be as willing or as hardened yet as the other women. They are probably new to the game. The veterans tend to try to get them out the door as soon as possible, we don't want them in this life. It's a slippery slope and soon you start to hate yourself for the grime people's lust leaves on your soul." 

Molly rubbed the older woman's shoulder in sympathy, as they looked around at the gathered men. "I think Daisy is one of the big draws here. But, Skinner has her in his sights. That's going to spell big trouble for her." 

A muffled clink came from under the table as Mary checked her small gun's ammunition. "Desecration and dominance are what men like Skinner are thinking in the face of innocence. Even if he ain't the killer, he isn't thinking candle and romance. No "Pretty Woman" endings there." 

A gleam came from beneath Anthea ' s fingers as she released the blade of a small stiletto knife to clean under her fingernails, "Jack the Ripper is in his eyes, Molly." 

Exasperated Molly shook her head. "Can we please get evidence before you slit his throat or shoot him? I would prefer not to lie on my coroner's report about his cause of death. I would be lying to Lestrade after all."

Anthea shrugged as she slid her knife back into her garter belt, "Could just have Mycroft dispose of the body. Be gone faster than you can blink." 

Beaming, Mrs. H said, "Those Holmes boys are so good to us!"

Molly groaned. "Now stop it you three! I need to put this case to rest. Properly. Too many women have been brutally murdered. Their killer needs to be caught and be brought to justice. Just like with the Ripper case, people aren't looking too closely at the murders because of the presumed background of the women." She bounced her palm against the grimy tabletop. "I refuse to keep quiet about women being killed, no matter how they make their money." 

Somber faces nodded her friends' understanding. "You're right Molly. Sorry." Mary said. 

"Now. Let's get answers. And if perchance he struggles and loses some blood in the course of the investigation, I can't cry foul on that." Molly said as she rose, leaving donning smiles of delight on certain blood hungry fiends she called friends.


	12. Baiting the Hook

Chapter 12-- Baiting the Hook

With a rustle of her black tulle Molly moved behind the suspect as he watched Daisy dance. Motioning to Christie, who was hovering nearby, Molly made sure they were in Skinner's peripheral sight. 

Christie stopped in front of the suddenly nervous woman as she twisted a pleat in the red fabric of her dress. Raising an eyebrow at the seemingly out of character motions, she asked, "Can I help you, miss?"

Watching Skinner's actions, Molly raised her voice over the strains of volin that weaved through the air. "Yes, um, I was wondering if, um, there were any openings here? I can dance, and um, throw drinks?" The stuttering question dangled after a nervous squeak abruptly stopped the flow of words.

Skinner's attention was being drawn from Daisy on the platform, his body curving to allow him to look more easily at the two women near the door. 

Narrowing her eyes at woman the bartender had pointed out to her, Christie planted her serving tray on her hip. "You want a job here?"

Molly tried to subtlety nod towards the creep's table to encourage the charade along, as she shuffled her feet with nervous energy. "Please. I just need a chance. I need to feed my son, and we're close to being kicked out of our flat. I don't want charity and I'm not wanting to turn tricks, but my little William needs food. I'll clean the bar, or...or...I can sew!" 

Skinner was looking fully at them now. Molly quelled the quiver that wanted to walk up her back at the feel of his lustful gaze wandering over her form. 

Christie made a show of looking over the woman's form. "I guess you could get a few men's engines running. But the dances are all full. How you at serving drinks and getting felt up?" 

"I can learn." Straightening her shoulders and flipping her hair back, Molly acted as if she was forcing herself to be brave. 

"What's your name, sug?" 

"Molly Scott. Please just give me a chance." She thought about making a more obvious sign of pleading, but ditched the idea as overselling the part. Skinner was still on the hook, she didn't want to send him scurrying away by spooking him. 

"Stay here a second, Molly Scott. I'll see if we can give you a quick chance." Nodding nervously, Molly stepped closer to Skinner out of the way of the door. She melded into the shadows as the waitress hurried back to the bar where the other Baker Street women had huddled. The bartender joined the huddle as Christie told them what Molly's ploy was. 

Keeping up the appearance of being out of her depth, but desperate, Molly continued to weave a pleat of fabric through her fingers. She noticed JackZ watching her from a spot near the platform, as well as the undercover narcotics officer who had stopped taking pictures of the drug deals. The officer's frown said he knew something wasn't right, but it was more a gut instinct than certainty. 

Skinner's fingers were continuously stroking his goatee as he looked for whatever his specifications were. The glint of his ring was muted as the lights changed to adjust to the new song that spilled from the speakers. Heavy bass pounded out as new woman grated onto the platform. Skinner's mouth pulled into a grimace of distaste as she vulgarly opened her thighs as she straddled a wooden chair. The woman seemed to mimic the sexual act as she arched backwards and played her hands up and down her body. 

While the other men seemed to be raptly trained on the dancer's actions, Skinner turned fully around in his own chair to stare at Molly's shrouded form. The motion masked JackZ's movement as he inched closer along the wall, so he leaned against a post with an unhindered view of Molly. 

Christie backed away from the bar with multiple drinks on her tray. "Okay. Molly Scott, you get a chance. Jewels, the bartender, says she wants to see you in action. If you've got the right moves, she might be willing to teach you." 

Passing the heavy tray over to Molly, she pointed out tables and the corresponding drinks. "Two ales to the businessmen in black. Vodka on ice to the pretty boy in red. He tips well if he gets to feel you up. Do it quickly so he doesn't grab you, just brush his face as you set his drink down. Crazy hair over there will go for your ass, be ready giggle and get out of the way as you drop his whiskey. Leather jacket over there likes to look down your shirt so he'll drop something when you place his screwdriver. Burly man there likes fingers in his hair, he's actually nice so you'll get a good tip, Guiness for him." Leaning closer Christie whispered in Molly's ear, "I don't know what Skinner will do, he's made it clear that only I can serve him. His is the tequila shot." 

Louder, Christie pushed Molly foward, "Show us whatcha got!" 

Thankful for her time as a waitress, Molly followed Christie's instructions as she passed out drinks. Brushing her bosom against pretty boy's face gave her a a hefty tip as she reached around him to set his drink on the table. Leather Jacket dropped silverware under the table, making her stick her butt in the air and place her face a little too close to his crotch for comfort, but that garnered some more cash as well. Burly guy sighed with pleasure as she tunneled through his hair and gave it a few tugs as she replaced his Guiness. His tip was almost better than pretty boy's. 

Amongst the empty bottles and glasses on her tray sat a lone shot glass. Keeping up the guise of sensual innocent, Molly went to Skinner's table. "Here you are, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?" A slight nervous quiver danced on her tone. 

Throwing the drink back, Skinner scowled at her. "You think men are playthings, don't you?" He slapped the shot glass onto the tray, nearly upsetting it. 

"I'm sorry?" Out of the corner of her eye, Molly could see JackZ come to attention. Shaking her head slightly, she focused on the creep who was making her skin crawl. 

"You sluts are all the same. Figure out how to play us just to get money." He stabbed a finger at the small pile of rumpled bills that were on the tray. 

Shifting nervously, Molly said a little more quietly, "Please sir, I'm just trying to provide for my little boy. If I could, I'd be getting a job somewhere else, but this is the best chance I have."

His fingers shackled Molly's wrist with a surprising speed, making the glasses clink as the tray was jostled. Jerking her closer and making her bend down, Skinner sneered in her face. "You ain't good for nothing. None of you are innocent. It's all an act. Just another way to bleed a man dry." 

Pushing her away, he got up out of his chair. His body invaded her personal space as he used it to force her to back away and concede him the upperhand. The tray became a very poor barrier, but properly wielded could stop him in his tracks.


	13. Chapter 13--- Confrontation Time

Chapter 13 Confrontation time

Even though she could practically feel the tension radiating from her friends as well as the cop and bouncer, she stayed firm. Molly knew how to defend herself, so she continued to catalog Skinner's reactions instead of struggling.

He shoved his face back into her personal space, his hot breath making her want to gag as its fetid smell caressed her nose. "You all just want to take a man's hard earned money. So you can just waste it. Not a decent one among you. Think you can lead a man around with a bit of hip action. Whores. Worthless whores." 

The glass filled tray rattled in Molly's grip as his chest helped dig the edge into her sternum. Other patrons of the joint were starting to pay attention to Skinner, his voice managing to carry over the heavy bass even without shouting. Burly Man who liked his hair played with stepped out of his booth with an angry scowl as Skinner gripped Molly's wrist.

"Hey now, man. Hands off. This here is a look don't touch place. Let go of her. She doesn't need you manhandling her!" Muttering arose from the other men as the music for the stage shut off. Burly came over and grabbed Skinner's shoulder. Skinner's own hand tightened on Molly's wrist, making her bobble the tray onto the table. Clinking glasses and angry words clashed against each other as Burly yanked Skinner away from her. 

"It's time you leave, man. Your attitude is not welcomed here." Burly attempted to frog march the attacker to the door as the other men encouraged him to leave. 

Molly saw the undercover narcotics officer take a few pictures of Skinner as he pass. JackZ sidled up next to Molly and lifted her hand to look at the offended wrist. "You okay, lass?" 

Looking thoughtfully after the protesting Skinner, Molly murmured, "Yes, I'm fine. I've had worse from much more violent men."


	14. Mycroft gets a little goldfish

Chapter 14 - Mycroft gets a little goldfish

Sherlock growled as the man roughly grabbed Molly on screen. John muttered as he paced behind the seated consulting detective.

"I really don't like this, Sherlock. The girls really shouldn't be doing this." The former military man scrubbed at his head in concern.

Sherlock was typing with amazing speed on another laptop that looked an awful like the one that had been in John's office. Sherlock's phone and tablet were also running through searches even as he was digging into what looked like a police report from Australia.

John watched as his wife and the other Baker Street ladies converged on Molly. "Sherlock! What are you doing? Molly could get hurt if she gets on this bastard's bad side."

"Yes, John, I know. If you were paying attention you would have seen what I had. I'm checking on boats that just pulled into port that might have been in ports near the other murders." Frustrated that the computers and other electronic devices weren't keeping up with the speed of his typing, Sherlock called his brother.

"Mycroft. What? Yes, the computer is too slow. Did you find a boat? Hyena's Hunt. Seriously? Does it look like he's trying to restart the Hyena brand? Really? Yes. Send it. I'm assuming Lestrade knows? Very well." Scrubbing his own head, Sherlock got up.

John appeared back in the doorway of the kitchen with a sleepy Kella Mae strapped in a chest pack and her diaper bag over his arm. He was slipping a revolver into the back of his pants while tucking a switchblade into his coat pocket. "Let's go get our girls." He urged gruffly.

Usually the eager one on a case, Sherlock hesitated at the sight of the little girl. "Do you really think Kella should be coming along?"

John walked to the door, "Who the hell am I supposed to call?! Every lady who has had Kella is in the middle of a _freaking strip joint_! And Lestrade is tracking down leads as well. There is no one else!"

Hailing a cab, Sherlock was quiet long enough for John to think he had gone into his mind palace.

So it was startling in more than one way, when Sherlock mentioned another possibility. "What about Mycroft?"

Sputtering, the doctor looked at his friend. " _Mycroft_?! Your brother?!"

An elegant shrug accompanied a winged eyebrow.

"Your brother. Could you imagine? Mycroft." Muttering, John smoothed down Kella's downy hair as she snuggled deeper into the carrier. "Mycroft."

Sherlock continued to use his tablet while his friend came to the only conclusion possible for Kella's care. He knew the two of them could keep Kella safe, but she was so small, so vulnerable. Mycroft was a much better choice.

Besides, Mary would kill him if something happened to that precious little girl.

And he would let her.

"Mycroft...all right. Yes, let's go." John tapped on the glass divider and rattled off the address of Mycroft's manor.

Fifteen minutes later the taxi expelled them at the entrance to the stately manor that Mycroft called home. Stanley, the butler and deadly security advisor of Sherlock's brother, opened the door to the trio before they could knock. "Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson. He's in the secure study. I really hope you aren't planning what I think you are, sir"

"It's time to get his hands dirty Stanley." Sherlock said as he walked into the cavernous enter way.

"The poor child." The butler shook his head as he secured to door. "Hopefully she's not scarred for life. She's young enough, so maybe she won't remember."

John marched with the conviction of a soldier to battle, as he carried his precious cargo into the presence of a man who held a minor position in the British Government.

" ** _No! Absolutely not_**!" Sherlock heard his brother exclaim. He couldn't quite make out his friend's words, though he was sure it was delivered with military precision. John always relied on the comfort of his former training in difficult situations.

His dignified brother scrambled out of his study with a speed he hadn't seen since before he was a teenager. In his haste, Mycroft's custom made shoes slid out from beneath him, making him crash into the opposite wall.

"Man up, Mycroft!" John ordered as he followed him out. The father was unbuckling the little girl as she cooed at Mycroft.

Horror etched deeply into the man's face as the little girl was held up. Sherlock grinned at his big brother's fear, even as he double checked another lead with his Homeless Network.

John had Mycroft cornered against a priceless antique statue and the wall, when his little girl wrapped her chubby little arms around "Uncle" Mycroft's neck. Kella Mae, with all the considerable ability of Mary's spy craft, shattered Mycroft's stiff upper lip, when she gently placed a kiss upon his cheek as she snuggled into his handmade Italian suit jacket. Unwillingly, Sherlock's brother wrapped his arms around the little diaper clad bundle as John allowed her weight to be felt.

Moving quickly before Mycroft could come out of his baby stupor, Sherlock headed towards the door. John followed behind his friend as he freed himself from the diaper bag and chest pack that he put on the table. "Kella has eaten, but there is another bottle in the bag. Here's her favorite blanket and her Bluebell that glows if she gets scared. Plenty of diapers if you need them. We shouldn't be too long."

Sherlock yanked his friend out of the door when he saw his brother start moving, "Let's go." The door clicked into place before Mycroft could get to it, and the doctor and the detective scurried past the guard sans baby before the government man could call for their heads.

**Author's Note:**

> This story came out of nowhere. It was going to be a one-off of pure fluff and fun because someone requested a Girls' Night story.  
> Molly Hooper had other plans. She wanted this story told.  
> I hope you like it!  
> PLEASE leave your comments. I want to know if you think I should keep following Molly as she works behind the scenes.  
> THANK you for taking the time to read!


End file.
